Crossing the river is joyful,
in an obtuse sort of way.
The across from us is like aiming too high…
A dream about tomorrow is lucky.
Singing out of tune is only pretending.
To refain from love is our future,
if we’re not careful.
Being the first one is like being out of key.
Hunger is terrible.
Being born is the worst of it,
standing up is raw and harmful — like honesty.
Collapsing is too much.
A broken promise
is tough and impenatrable.
Beauty isn’t similar to a fresh bruise,
the truth of a lie
is breaking up.
A capsule of the past is going on…